Crac de Chevaliers and Palmyra, Syria

The next day, we spent some time at the market in Aleppo before heading out to Crac de Chevaliers, the most complete crusader castle in the world. It was in such impeccable condition, it was almost unbelievable. It seemed like we were in some Hollywood set, and Guinevere or Arthur would pop their head around the corner any minute. Apparently it was saved from destruction when a Crusader army of 200 was tired of fighting and just asked Saladin (leader of the Arab forces) if they could surrender and go home. Being a nice bloke, Saladin agreed. The crusaders headed back home, leaving a perfectly intact castle behind.

That night was kind of uneventful. We ate some more Syrian food. Vegetarian option: chickpeas. (I've been drowning in chickpeas this whole trip. It's a good thing I like them--well enough anyway.) Syrian food isn't really bad though, especially if you like sheep products. I happen to dislike almost all sheep products (save wool), so my opinion is quite biased.

The next day we stopped at Palmyra after passing the slew of signs for Baghdad. (Palmyra is only about 70 miles from the Iraqi border.) I was feeling a little queasy, so I opted to use the computer rather than eat at lunchtime.

Shortly after updating my blog, I jotted off a quick email to mi madre when I was overcome by a powerful urge to hurl. So I quickly logged off and located the bathroom...which was occupied. So I waited impatiently for a bit before dashing out of the building, into the middle of the street, where I yakked multiple times--drawing a large crowd of onlookers. (Technology like cable TV and the internet is expensive, and mostly for the wealthy. Therefore, a Caucasian woman vomiting in the street is a fairly exciting event, plus the spectacle is free of charge.)

After that lovely episode, I decided not to go on a tour of the ruins at Palmyra. Instead, I spent my time lying in the truck where I made "woe-is-me" whimpering sounds. When that got a little old, I started singing to myself instead. (Yeah, I might have been a little delirious and dehydrated.) I wasn't lonely for too long, because two other girls, who were also feeling ill, joined me in the infirmary--I mean the truck.

Though I missed all of the tour, I was feeling well enough by dinner to help cook. (Mashed potatoes--yum!) Our campsite for the evening was in the Valley of the Tombs, with fabulous views of the nearby citadel and the Temple of Bel.

After dinner, the wind really began to pick up, making it virtually impossible to sleep outside. There is not enough room for everybody to sleep in the truck, so a few of us decided to seek shelter in a nearby tomb, which looked something like this. The tomb was built in 200 AD, but was used almost continuously until the site was "protected" by the government. That means there are still heaps of bones (both animal and human) in the corridors of the building.

I would say it didn't bother me to sleep next to a giant bone pile, but that would be a big fat lie. It's kind of odd to drift off to sleep with a femur a few inches from your head. I tried to rationalize it by saying we were keeping them (the bones) company, and they were keeping us safe from the sandstorm howling at the door. Yet all the rationalization in the world did not help me sleep peacefully. I woke up in the middle of the night when my cot began to shake (presumably due to the wind) and as soon as my heart settled down, I heard some wild dogs yowling outside the door. Yikes.

I'd have to say sleeping in that tomb was a "once-in-a-lifetime" experience, because I won't be doing it again. Anytime soon. Anytime ever. And if that makes me a wuss, so be it. I really don't care.